


oh deer

by twofrontteethstillcrooked



Series: Les Mis snippetfic [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Drabble, Enjolras is a Disney princess; you know this in your heart to be true, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:09:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofrontteethstillcrooked/pseuds/twofrontteethstillcrooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holding no truck with deities meant there was no-one to whom Enjolras could pray concerning the deer -- today the deer, yesterday the twite perched on his shoulders, the day before barn kittens, with needle-like claws, who clung to his ankles at his every turn about the estate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh deer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clenster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clenster/gifts).



> Clenster recently told me:  
> "OKAY BECAUSE OF THAT [BABY DEER VIDEO](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIrnrnkajPM) YOU REBLOGGED: i am hungry for woodland creature au? or at least a setting where enjolras gets to accidentally be disney princess and charm all woodland creatures without meaning to"
> 
> Just, yes. Absolutely.

"If Grantaire were here I wager he would have referenced Actaeon by now," Joly mused.

Bossuet, to Enjolras's dismay, picked up this thread. "Oh indeed!" He flourished a hand at Enjolras, and spoke again in sonorous voice. "'Our fair leader of accidental wisdom, something, something, unrecognizable to previously friendly hounds, et cetera, destined to be offered up as mortal sacrifice to indifferent divinity,' -- well, he'd say it more eloquently."

"Or sarcastically," Joly said.

"Have another drink," Prouvaire said, pouring wine to the rim of Bossuet's cup in encouragement.

Enjorlas bit down on a groan and shifted the weight of the fawn; small as she was, she had been perched too much on only his left thigh, which was starting to go numb.

"No, no, no," said Bahorel, flicking his own cup so that it rang like a merry bell. 

The fawn's ears twitched at the sound of the tings but she otherwise did not seem inclined to part company with Enjolras's lap.

"Grantaire would hold forth on Saint Giles, obviously." Bahorel said the last syllables with saucy disdain, and smoothed his tidy beard while doing so.

"Perhaps," Prouvaire said, reaching over to scratch the fawn beneath her chin. She tipped her head up, obedient, eyes closed in bliss, and still did not leave Enjolras's person. "But Enjolras, as we all did, dined on hare just last evening, and enjoys the frequent company of many friends."

Rather less than usual at this point in time, though Enjolras would not say so aloud.

"Also, not a saint," Joly said. Bossuet coughed politely. Joly rushed to continue, "Not that you haven't achieved plenty of notable works, Enjolras, it's just… Well, I imagine miracles are not exactly your purview." Joly smiled in apology and patted the doe on her head.

"No," Enjolras said. He smiled at Joly and suppressed a great sigh. Holding no truck with deities meant there was no-one to whom Enjolras could pray concerning the deer -- today the deer, yesterday the twite perched on his shoulders, the day before barn kittens, with needle-like claws, who clung to his ankles at his every turn about the estate.

Courfeyrac had been little help with Enjolras's new and inadvertent…faculty. Even though it was Courfeyrac's family's land, none of the animal life upon it seemed the least interested in him. He, Combeferre, and Feuilly were on the other side of the lake, practicing their marksmanship. Feuilly had mentioned possibly hunting later. Enjolras glanced down at the fawn; she had started chewing on his waistcoat but he still suffered a quick pang of guilt. 

"Where _did_ Grantaire go?" Enjolras asked, sorry the question sounded every bit as out of sorts as he actually felt.

"Behind you," Grantaire said, rather closer to Enjolras's ear than expected. 

Enjolras jumped and the fawn bleated at him in rebuke.

Grantaire stepped around his chair, and knelt at Enjolras's feet. In his hands he held a small covered bowl.

"Well?" Enjolras said sharply.

Grantaire quirked an eyebrow. "A gift for our goddess here," he said, choosing to address the fawn. 

He set the bowl lid aside and with his fingertips held out a single ripened blackberry. The fawn sniffed it in a delicate way and then swallowed it after one chew. 

"Ah," Bahorel said in a knowing manner. "Clever."

"Right?" Grantaire said, grinning. He resumed a neutral, innocent expression, and looked up to hold Enjolras's gaze for a moment. His eyes were--

Irrelevant. Utterly, deeply unimportant, in both color and composition.

(Blue, however. Very blue.)

(Enjolras did not blush, or swallow, or throw the fawn at Grantaire, but he considered no fewer than two of these options.)

Grantaire stood up, took another blackberry and offered it to the fawn. She scrambled to stand on Enjolras's lap, her pointy little limbs poking into his in a truly uncomfortable way, and nosed the blackberry for a millisecond before snatching it. 

"Stand up slowly," Grantaire whispered. 

Enjolras did so, tucking the fawn under one arm as carefully as he could. When he set her down on the ground, she complained with three loud bleats, until Grantaire held out another blackberry.

"That's it," Grantaire said in a tender, coaxing manner Enjolras was going to refuse to think about, ever.

Grantaire took a step backwards with the next blackberry. The fawn took a step forward to take it from him. A pint of blackberries later, they had crossed the yard. In his peripheral vision Enjolras saw Bossuet and Prouvaire waving their approval, and it occurred to him he didn't know why he had walked along with the fawn and Grantaire. He wasn't the one offering or eating blackberries.

At the treeline Grantaire's bowl was empty. He put a stained finger to his lips and tipped his head toward the forest.

A doe was watching them, still as a topiary. Grantaire picked his way a few feet into the trees. Enjolras and the fawn followed, and when it seemed she was about to start nibbling his wardrobe again, he picked her up and deposited her, with as much silence as he could manage, in the doe's line of sight. The baby dashed toward the larger deer and they disappeared together through a thicket. 

"There, then," Grantaire said, sounding pleased.

"Where did you find the blackberries?" Enjolras asked, because it seemed to be the safest question.

"They're growing wild near the gardens. Last of the season, I'd imagine, but early enough the devil won't have claimed them." There was a smile in his voice Enjolras liked.

"Did you sustain any injury?"

Grantaire blinked. "A scratch or two from thorns. Nothing too severe."

"Well. Thank you. It was a good plan." Enjolras would have to make sure he was properly doctored when they were back at the house.

"You're welcome." Grantaire had his hands around Enjolras's waist.

Enjolras had his hands in Grantaire's hair. It had been cheering to see the fawn off, but nothing like the relief he felt now with Grantaire's mouth under his.

After a minute he wondered, belatedly, if they could be seen from across the lawn.

"Not certain," Grantaire said, "but they all already know, you know." He was pressing kisses along Enjolras's jawline.

"Yes," Enjolras said, though it was more of a gasp than he'd have preferred it to be.

"All right," Grantaire said, somewhat like he'd forgotten what they were talking about. 

Enjolras didn't mind. A twite tried to land on his shoulder. He slapped it away as kindly as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty certain Grantaire's "Right?" is anachronistic, but, like, it's a snippet where Enjolras is plagued by woodland creatures, so.


End file.
